ayment of three hundred thousand dollars, forty large
canvases were secured, with a promise of more to come.

Dore took the money, and, the agents being gone, ran home to tell his
mother. She was at dinner with a little company of invited guests.
Gustave vaulted over the piano, played leap-frog among the chairs, and
turning a handspring across the table, incidentally sent his heels into
a thousand-dollar chandelier that came toppling down, smashing every dish
upon the table, and frightening the guests into hysterics.

"It's nothing," said Madame Dore; "it's nothing--Gustave has merely done
a good day's work!"

The "Dore Gallery" in London proved a great success. Spurgeon advised his
flock to see it, that they might the better comprehend Bible history; the
Reverend Doctor Parker spoke of the painter as "one inspired by God";
Sunday-schools made excursions thither; men in hobnailed shoes knelt
before the pictures, believing they were in the presence of a vision.

And all these things were duly advertised, just as we have been told of
the old soldier who visited the Gettysburg Cyclorama at Chicago and
looking upon the picture, he suddenly cried to his companion, "Down,
Bill, down! by t' Lord, there's a feller sightin' his gun on us!"

Barnum offered the owners twice what they paid for the "Dore Gallery,"
with intent to move the pictures to America, but they were too wise to
accept.

Twenty-eight of the canvases were eventually sold, however, for a sum
greater than was paid for the lot, yet enough remained to make a most
representative display; and no American in London misses seeing the Dore
Gallery, any more than we omit Madame Tussaud's Wax-Works.

In Eighteen Hundred Seventy-three, Dore visited England and was welcomed
as a conquering hero. The Prince of Wales and the nobility generally paid
him every honor. He was presented to the Queen, and Victoria thanked him
for the great work he had done, and asked him to inscribe for her a copy
of the "Dore Bible."

More than this, the Queen directed that several Dore pictures be
purchased and placed in Windsor Castle.

Of course, all Paris knew of Dore's success in England. Paris laughed.
"What did I tell you?" said Berand. And Paris reasoned that what England
and America gushed over must necessarily be very bad. The directors of
the Salon made excuses for not hanging his pictures.

Dore had become rich, but his own Paris--the Paris that had been a
foster-mother to hi